Lost Angel (The List #1) (2 page)

Willow flutters her incredibly long lashes at
me and gives me an exaggerated wink, forcing a genuine smile this time. “How
long have you had that
‘Next Chapter’
line up your sleeve?”

“Like, five minutes before you got here! Insightful
yeah? I knew you’d like that piece of inspiration.”

Wills is slightly shorter than me at about 5’4”,
with a slender figure and small pert breasts; the size that allows her to get
away without wearing a bra, which she often takes advantage of. Her pale skin
is the kind that doesn’t take well to sunbathing, so she sticks to fake bake. She
has long, naturally auburn, wavy hair but I’ve probably seen it all colours of
the rainbow at some point. Wills has the sort of dress sense that matches her
personality; quirky, colourful, fun and unique – I’d probably label her style
as Bohemian. One of many things I love about her is that she doesn’t worry
about what others will think of her, being more than comfortable in her own
skin and she has the biggest heart.

We hug it out and then she heads off to thoughtfully
run me a hot bubble bath, leaving me to reacquaint myself with the house.

It’s a three bedroomed detached house that
Willow bought outright as a new build around four years ago. I’ve been here
lots and stayed over a couple of times when Mike was away on business. The
centrally placed front door leads into an airy entranceway. The stairs are in
front with the main living area to the left and the generously sized kitchen
diner to the right. These two rooms span the length of the house and are then linked
together via a smaller room situated behind the stairs, which functions as a
utility area. There’s a nice sized back garden that Willow’s kept low
maintenance with a decent sized patio, simple trimmed lawn, an allotment patch
at the back and small potted plants and shrubs dotted about.

Back inside, Wills has decorated everywhere
with the view to creating space, maximising natural light and minimal
furnishings. She’d chosen this property after speaking to the development firm
and listening to their plans about crafting not only ecological, but also
economically viable homes. She arranged for them to decorate everywhere white
with natural coloured carpets or light wooden flooring. Her personal belongings
and personality alone soon injects vibrant colours and character that
transformed this house into her home.

I do a couple of trips up the staircase to
deposit my bags and cases into the guest bedroom, which is almost as large as
Willows master suite. There’s also a handy Jack and Jill style adjoining
bathroom. As you walk into the room there’s a dressing table and the bathroom
on the left with the double bed directly opposite. There’s a built in wall of
wardrobes adjacent to the doorway with a beautiful, large square window
opposite, which lets in ample amounts of natural light. I grab my toiletries
and fluffy dressing gown, the kind you can snuggle into and feel safe. Wills emerges
from the bathroom and leaves me to it.

Five minutes later, she shouts that she’s going
to pop out to the shops and grab a bottle or two for later.

I strip off my clothes in the bathroom and find
myself standing naked, with my eyes, closed in front of the full-length mirrors…
Plural... Wills certainly has no inclination to feel self-conscious. She’s so
self-assured and oozes sex appeal. She has such a beautiful, spiritual approach
to life, with a wonderful ability to lose her inhibitions, which I seem incapable
of. Or rather I’ve been moulded into keeping them locked down. We’re already so
close, the sister I never had, so I hope that living within such close
proximities for a while will rub some of her
‘Que Sera, Sera’
attitude
off on me.

A sudden rush of internal anxieties betray my
calm exterior. Mike’s never had any complaints about my body. He hadn’t exactly
paid it much attention for a while, extra stress at work being the mask for
what we now know was our dwindling marital flame. But I’m
sure
he was
happy with my appearance. There’s no reason for him not to have been, I look
after my body; working out more than most and I’ve always had a healthy
balanced diet. I’m top heavy with large breasts contradicting my neat 26-inch
waist. My hips wider than average to help support my oversized bottom—I can
thank my mother’s genes for that! No matter how many different types of cardio workouts
I try, I’ve never been able to shrink it down. Same goes for my chest. I often
think if my breasts were smaller it’d make running and aerobics a helluva lot
more comfortable.

For the first time in a long time I’m going to
look at myself as ‘single’. I’ve been with Mike since I was sweet sixteen, a
young inexperienced girl. Now I’m a woman. What if I have loads of new
insecurities about whether or not anybody else will find me attractive? Not
just attractive for a quick fuck, I mean attractive as in girlfriend material
and eventually
way
down the line—dare I say it—marriage material. Am I
past it? Are all the good men from my generation already taken? Leaving me the
dregs of the barrel consisting of a murky puddle filled with obnoxious players…
Urgh, great!

Argh! I’m not used to this. This is freakin’ bizarre;
I’ve never lacked self-confidence but maybe that’s because I was so comfortable
with Mike that I’ve lowered my expectations of myself…

“
Jeez just open your goddam eyes Beth.
”
I mutter under my breath.

Here goes, I start with my face; olive skin
complexion, warm chocolatey hazel extra-long hair scraped back into a high
chunky bun, faint freckles galore – or rather ‘fairy kisses’ as my mom used to
tell me – hazel coloured eyes complimenting my hair and finally my lonely pink
lips. I slowly look myself up and down, holding my breath as I do so.

“Phew.” I breathe out with a sigh of relief. Nothing’s
changed, I’m still content with what I see when I look at my body thankfully.

After getting married I did allow some extra
pounds to sneak up on me, I was so content in my life at that time that I
didn't even notice I'd let myself go a bit. We were having sex one night and as
I turned onto all fours – a position I hadn't donned in a while – I realised it
wasn't just my full double D’s that were bouncing for England. My tummy had
developed a wobble of its own, which completely ruined the moment for me as I
usually take my fitness so seriously. Not out of vanity but because I’ve
conditioned myself into believing that I must look after my body to give myself
the best chance of a long healthy life, not to mention having the best chance
of conceiving and carrying a baby through a healthy pregnancy. My mom suffered
complications when I was born. I’ll do whatever I can to reduce risks further
on down the line for me where possible. Plus I obviously wanted to be
attractive for Mike.

The upside of this is that I unequivocally love
working out and being fit. So how did I end up with a business based on a hobby
involving sitting on your arse? I’ve never thought of it like that before. But
then again, audio books and e-books have opened the doors for exercising whilst
listening or even swiping through pages whilst on the treadmill. 

Well anyway, the moment was ruined and I think
I probably faked an orgasm quicker than my usual protocol, just to hurry him up
so I could get to sleep and wake up early for a morning run. Running to the
inner chant
‘Get Fitter, Not Bitter’
, I soon shifted those extra pounds.
Thinking about it makes me feel like that behaviour was somewhat obsessive.
Maybe I concentrated my energies incorrectly.

Sex with Mike was unfortunately lacklustre and
I’m certainly no stranger to faking an orgasm. Although I actually have no
physical comparison, as he was my first and was supposed to be my last. That
would have been great to tell our children when they were older; how their
parents were each other’s first and only loves. Well actually, that wouldn't be
right either as Mike had put a few notches on his bedpost before taking my
virginity. After all, he is a couple of years older than me and classically
handsome. He has fair skin that contrasts against his dark brown hair and eyes.
Mike can typically eat what he likes and his body doesn’t alter much. Being a
pen pusher by trade and not pushing weights or working out means his body isn’t
muscular or defined but he still looks great in a suit, which is what matters
to him at his business meetings. Plus we weren’t that adventurous in the
bedroom anyway so bulging biceps wouldn’t have benefited us in that regard.
That didn’t stop me fantasising about all manner of sexual positions, being
controlled and having my stamina and flexibility pushed to their limits.

Every once in a while we'd get drunk and have a
night of what we thought at the time was incredible animalistic love making...
When in reality, if witnessed, it was probably more like awkward drunks
fumbling around in the dark, haphazardly groping each other and grunting. But
it didn’t matter because it worked for us, always triggering a boost of sexual
encounters that lasted a few weeks and died back down again. Our action in the
bedroom over the years slowly diminished. Goes to show that our attraction to
each other was somewhat forced. We weren't the kind of couple that created
sexual energy from just a look, a whisper or a touch. I’m pretty sure that sort
of lust mainly happens on pages with the exception of rare couples like my
parents. God I ache to feel that with somebody. I want to feel that electricity
spark. I’ve always wanted to experience the kind of sex that has you feeling
like you’re craved and cherished and the man you’re sharing that with has no
hesitation in telling you how he cannot get enough of you. That right there would
be absolutely wonderful.

In hindsight, aside from drunken fumbles, our
sex was always a bit contrite. We did ‘it’ because we're married and that's
what couples do. We enjoyed it, climaxed – sometimes both of us – and struck it
off the ‘to do’ list until the next time.
How sad is that?

Mike seemed to instigate the quickies and I’d attempt
to instigate anything outside of the quickie box. He wasn’t a great fan of foreplay,
so I’d always try different techniques – sneaking a peak at ideas from the
adult section after hours at work – for handjobs or blowjobs, to encourage him,
in the hope that something would spark a wave of satyriasis. Not that I’d
consider myself a
nymphomaniac.
The chance would be a fine thing
. Mike
wasn’t too bothered about blowjobs either. Seriously, what man doesn’t like
having his cock sucked by his wife? I originally thought it was something I was
doing wrong, but eventually I realised that Mike just wasn’t a sexual person.

Recently, it felt like he was literally
just going through the motions.
There’s always been a voice in the back of my head telling
me that I’ve got so much more to experience and learn about the world of sex.

Now I realise that I've unwittingly sacrificed
so much because I was too scared to step outside of the box, always reminding
myself that there are people who are a lot worse off than me.... Rather than
admitting that actually there are people who are a lot better off than me too
and I don't mean financially. I mean emotionally, mentally, physically,
sexually satisfied on a
daily basis
.

I know that I was too frightened to stop and
say "Yes I have a house, a handsome successful ambitious husband and a
thriving business but I'm still not FUCKING HAPPY", without feeling like
an utter ungrateful bitch.

Back to my reflection in the mirror, I sway my
hips from side to side looking at my profile and my back. No tattoos, no
piercings, no hair colour, no make-up, immaculate French manicured trimmed
nails, no tan – fake or otherwise. My reflection screams,
“I look after myself
but these splinters are playing havoc on my arse from all this sitting on the goddamn
white picket fence!”

I stop swaying and take out my hairband
throwing it on the side of the bath. My wavy long locks tumble over my
shoulders and cover most of my breasts. My eyes follow further down and dance
over my hourglass figure; cinched in at the waist and out at the hips. I cock
out my bottom, extenuating my thigh gap just below my predictable neatly trimmed
bikini line. My imagination runs away with itself and thinks about all the
things this body could be capable of but has never had the opportunity. There
it is again—that exciting taste of positivity.

I’ve had to keep my sex drive under manners for
so long that it’ll be a relief when I feel comfortable to put myself and my
needs first for a change.

I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with
the delicious shea butter scented bath oil Willow has used, knowing it's my
favourite. As she rightfully said earlier, tonight really does mark the start
of my ‘Next Chapter’.